Life Reader

by Shea, K. M.

  Pedestals and display cases lined the perimeter of the room. They were covered in magical artifacts—both legal and illegal.

  Raven walked past a display case, looking at the items stored inside: A pair of glass slippers, at least one unicorn horn, an ivory summoning horn, a tiny jeweled ship in a small bottle, an indiscernible pile of stretched golden leather, a tiny basket of golden apples, a crystal crown, and more.

  Past the display case was a variety of mirrors, something that looked suspiciously like a time machine, and a ratty, torn carpet.

  “Raven, look,” Asher said, touching her shoulder before point at the walls of the chapel. They were lined with gleaming weapons. Elegantly crafted bows, blazing shields, spears, axes, and more were bolted to the wall. Raven went pale when she spotted a majestic looking sword stabbed into a slab of rock.

  The director stood directly beneath the skylight, pushing display cases aside. “What you want is over here—I believe—Rachel,” he called, roughly pushing a small copper pot away.

  A butter gold bauble of light zoomed out of the pot, veering crazily for a moment before stopping stark still in the middle of the room.

  Aron squinted at the ball of light. “Is that a fairy?” he asked.

  “Yes,” the director said from behind a marble pillar, his voice muffled and dripping with irritation.

  “Did it get locked in?” Raven asked.

  Immediately the globe of light rocketed into motion, ringing like crystal as it orbited around Raven.

  “No,” was the directors muffled reply. “It belongs in here.”

  When the light finally stopped Raven was able to inspect the fairy. Her hair was wild and untidy. She wore a green dress crafted out of one giant leaf. Her little mouth flapped as she spoke with great animation, but Raven could only hear little bells—no words.

  “Hello there,” Raven said holding out a hand for the fairy to land on. “What’s your name?”

  “Tinker Bell,” said the director.

  “Wait, THE Tinker Bell?” Aron asked, peeling himself off a display case that held an assortment of jewels.

  “Yes.”

  “So the book was real?” Asher said, his eyes almost popping out of his head.

  “Erm,” Raven uttered as Tinker Bell fluttered closer, stopping only when she could touch Raven’s lips with her small hands. The fairy patted Raven’s lower lip before gliding around Raven’s head. Tinker Bell cried, fat tears of water rolling down her cheeks like glitter before she dove into Raven’s hair.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It was a play, and of course it isn’t real. Rachel, over here if you would please,” the director said, his voice cold and callous before turning creaky and gratingly cheerful when he called for Raven.

  “If it isn’t real how is she is alive?” Aron muttered through a clenched smile as he watched Tinker Bell nestle against Raven’s throat.

  Raven slowly walked in the direction of the director’s voice, swallowing sharply when she felt Tinker Bell lay down on her shoulder—endlessly chattering in her jingle bell voice.

  The director turned at the waist to face her before folding his arms across his chest. “This is what you were looking for, is it not?”

  “To be honest sir, I don’t really know what it looks like. I was hoping you—,” Raven cut herself off when she stepped close enough to the director to peer around him.

  There was a rather ordinary looking cauldron, as black as coal, placed in front of the director. However, it was not empty. Instead gray smog trickled down the sides like spidery fingers. An apple red liquid bubbled inside the cauldron, air bubbles popping with acrid odors.

  Several items rose and fell in the brew, and Raven covered her mouth to keep from gagging before she shut her eyes against the miscellaneous animal body parts. Words drummed in her ears, words uttered not by Asher, Aron, or the director. Words that hazily floated to her, as if peeled off the cauldron.

  Round about the cauldron go;

  In the poison’d entrails throw.

  “That, that’s the witches’ cauldron from Macbeth!” Aron said, backing away, his eyes wide. He moved so quickly he crashed into a glass case and gripped it until his knuckles turned white with strain.

  “What is this place?” Asher asked in a low voice, shifting his body into an attack stance as hysterical, wild laughter swirled around the cauldron.

  “Rachel is the only Double A alive right now, but I did say she was not the only Double A to ever live,” the director said before gesturing at the horrible prop brought to life.

  Asher turned around, surveying the Winter Vault. “Then all of this stuff…?”

  “Read by a Double A,” the director confirmed, carelessly flicking a speck of dust off his cuff. Although his manner was casual he kept his eyes on the cauldron.

  Raven slowly raised a hand to her shoulder until her finger tips brushed the fairy nestled against her. “To read Tinker Bell is one thing,” she swallowed. “But the witches’ cauldron? What twisted mind did this?”

  “A Double A’s lot in life is not always a pleasant one. This is what you were looking for, Rachel?”

  Raven shut her eyes as an animal eye bobbed up and down in the cauldron’s froth. “It is,” she confirmed, new understanding blooming in her mind. No wonder Gram was not forthcoming with details regarding the cauldron.

  The cauldron belched, and rusted voices giggled:

  Double, double toil and trouble;

  Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

  “Quiet,” the director snarled at the pot. The voices fell silent.

  “So how do we get that thing out of here?” Aron asked from across the room, strategically positioned in front of a weapons rack.

  Raven rubbed her arms to get rid of her goosebumps. “I’ll carry it.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous Rachel. You aren’t physically able to,” the director said in his ‘comforting’ voice.

  “Who is going to do it then?” Asher asked, standing next to his twin.

  Director Eastgate turned and stared at them.

  Asher hissed between clenched teeth, “I thought it was suspicious he let us come with. Come on Aron, better get this over with.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m not going anywhere near that thing,” Aron declared, locking his legs.

  “Would you like to speak louder so all of us may hear?” the director asked, his tone quiet with the promise of thunder and pain.

  “Of course, Sir! I was just saying it would be my pleasure to serve, Sir! I’ve been weightlifting for situations like these, Sir!” Aron sang as he bolted to catch up to Asher.

  The older twin stopped to kneel next to the cauldron, peering in at the brew. “Is this thing going to burn us if we touch it—oh gross,” he said before leaning away, one hand resting on his stomach as he recovered from whatever had risen to the top.

  “It shouldn’t. If it is deactivated the brew and smoke will disappear,” the director frowned.

  “Deactivated?” Aron asked.

  The director ignored him.

  “What do you mean by deactivated?” Raven timidly asked.

  The director instantly launched into an explanation. “When a Double A reads something to life it does not cease to exist until the Double A dismisses it, as you must know by experience. If the Double A allows the item continued existence, like the items in this room, most items go into stasis in order to conserve magic. They cannot be used for their literary purpose. They are essentially inactive and useless.”

  “Only a Double A can control the item’s state?” Raven guessed.

  “No,” the director said. “Not entirely. They can control the state, but the item will also shift according to its own will. Tinker Bell woke out of her stasis when she sensed the cauldron had moved into an active state. The cauldron switched out of stasis for reasons unknown. Additionally I, being the director of this library, can wield some of the library’s magic to force an animated object into stasis.”

  “So why didn’
t you do that to Tinker Bell and the cauldron?” Aron thoughtlessly asked. “Sorry, I mean, I’m sure it occurred to you, but, ah,” he stammered when the director turned his black gaze to him.

  “I have put the cauldron and the fairy into stasis multiple times over the past few months. They keep awakening on their own terms. Now—Dormio!” the director shouted, jabbing a finger at the cauldron.

  The smoldering fog stopped pouring over the edges of the pot, and the poison apple red brew bubbled only a few times more before falling still. A lizard leg floated on the surface before disappearing as the red liquid turned darker and darker. When it was the same coal black as the pot it seemed to drain, disappearing into the depths of the pot.

  The twins stared at the cauldron, slightly awed, but the director turned on his heels and headed for the door. “Come along, Rachel.”

  “Oh sure, leave us to do the real work,” Aron grumbled, grabbing the pot’s handle.

  “It’s not that heavy, go ahead Rachel,” Asher said, also grabbing the cast iron ring.

  “Your smitten mouth wouldn’t let you say otherwise,” Aron said, crab walking as the two shuffled through the room.

  “Thanks guys,” Raven said, trotting ahead.

  When the twins exited the Winter Vault the director shut the door behind them with an ominous slam.

  “This way,” Director Eastgate said, leading the way down the inky black tunnel. Raven missed the glittering warmth of the Winter Vault, but she breathed easier. The items in that room seemed to press down on her, calling out to her almost… and not in the wistful way the library books called.

  Raven hunched her shoulders, causing Tinker Bell to slide down her shoulder and collide with her neck. “Oh no!” Raven shouted, stopping.

  The twins almost dropped the cauldron on the ground in their surprise. “What?” Aron said.

  “Is something wrong?” Asher asked, letting go of the cauldron—forcing Aron to struggle with it as he took two large strides forward and reached for Raven.

  “No, I forgot to leave Tinker Bell behind!” Raven said as the fairy hopped off Raven’s shoulders and started making a slow orbit around her again.

  Aron grumbled as he waddled for a few steps before putting the cauldron down. “Thanks for that, Asher. Totally made my day.”

  “We have to go back,” Raven said as Tinker Bell played with one of her curls.

  “It’s fine,” Director Eastgate said. “She’s seen you. I doubt she’ll be willing to stay in stasis for long. She might as well be out of the Winter Vault, she’ll only make the library crazier if she’s not.”

  Raven hesitated. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” the director said, already walking down the hallway.

  Raven looked to Tinker Bell one more time before she started after the director, the twins laboriously bringing up the rear.

  “So that’s what is dangerous about this cauldron. It was read to life and it pops out if it’s in sleep mode. If a magic abuser got a hold of it they could do some major damage,” Aron said a few minutes later—after having a hissy fit when he almost skid out while carrying the cauldron down the incline.

  “Probably,” Raven said as Tinker Bell settled on her shoulder again. “Think of what happened after Macbeth saw it.”

  Aron fell silent, and Asher spoke instead. “Maybe it’s a good thing your black dog is going to take it.”

  The group was silent for the rest of the dreary trip. The twins didn’t even cackle when Director Eastgate led them back out the secret entrance.

  Raven sighed with relief when they rounded a twist in the hallway and could see all the way down to the kitchen, where Raven’s father stood at attention with Rocky and Roland.

  “Look, they have it,” Roland brightly said.

  The three emissaries walked to the very edge of the kitchen, obediently staying there even though they thinly masked their impatience as the twins dragged their feet.

  When the twins finally passed into the kitchen and set the cauldron down Raven’s father picked it up by the handle, using one hand and easily hefting the weight as though it were more cumbersome than heavy.

  “Yep, you’re lucky she doesn’t dig old guys,” Aron said to his twin, who promptly kicked him.

  “Well done, Rachel,” Raven’s father said, reaching out to ruffle her hair before turning to Director Eastgate. “Thank you for your cooperation. You’ve made the right choice.”

  The director shrugged. “I highly doubt that, but it was unavoidable,” he loftily said before turning to Raven. “You will see them out?”

  “Yes sir,” Raven nodded as her father frowned, puzzling over the director’s words. “This way, gentlemen,” she said, walking to the kitchen door. She pushed it open and held the door as the twins and the three emissaries walked through it.

  Raven reached out and put a hand on her father’s arm. “Daddy, you have to destroy it,” Raven whispered when her father looked to her after the others were a safe distance ahead.

  The twins lead Rocky and Roland forward, but they stopped at Royce’s desk when the cowboy—his look of glowering gone for the moment—called out to them. Daire stood with Royce, silent but frowning.

  “You know about it?” Raven’s father asked, his voice chilly.

  Raven winced. “The director said a Double A read it.”

  “Then you know that it can’t be destroyed. Only a Double A can dismiss something after it’s been read to life, and there aren’t any Double As alive now. We’ll store it in a secure location, that’s the best we can do for now,” Raven’s father said. He glanced at Tinker Bell—who was sitting on Raven’s shoulder—before looking to Rocky and Roland.

  “But Dad—,”

  “Thank you for your help, Rachel, but we have no further need of your assistance,” Raven’s father loudly said with false cheer before he walked away from Raven, cheerfully swinging the cauldron.

  “Rachel,” Aron said, beckoning for her.

  Raven sighed as she slumped across the room to Royce’s desk, slipping past Rocky and Roland. “Yeah?”

  “Have you seen Brandon today?” Aron asked, his voice lined with worry.

  “No, I’ve been with you the whole time. You would have seen him too. What’s up?” Raven asked, glancing back and forth between the twins before looking to Royce and Daire.

  Royce adjusted his Stetson hat, his eyes were too clouded with worry for him to remember that he wasn’t speaking to Raven. “He was supposed to arrive when you guys did. It’s been half an hour.”

  “Maybe he ran into his football coach on his way out of school,” Aron suggested.

  Daire disagreed. “No, he would have called. In his previous years of employment he has grown so lax in arriving late that I’ve been forced to begin fining him for his tardiness.”

  “Yeah, and we haven’t gotten any calls. Something just doesn’t feel right,” Royce said, his mint green eyes scanning the shelves upon shelves of nonfiction books that stood just past the empty computer area.

  Rocky stalked up a computer aisle, his boots heavily thumping on the carpeting as he scowled at the computers. “You don’t usually get patrons now?” he gruffly asked.

  “Yes, I mean no. After school hours we’re always busy,” Royce said, distractedly pulling at his belt. “But we’re closed now so there shouldn’t be anyone else in the building.”

  Rocky sniffed the air, circling around the staircase that led to the fiction area. Raven’s father followed him, pausing at the base.

  Roland laughed. “Come on hound dog, our work here is done. We should get going,” Roland said, reaching for Rocky.

  Rocky took a step back, avoiding Roland’s hand.

  The doors of the side street entrance flew open, and Brannon tripped into the library, beaten and bleeding. He ran a few steps before wiping out on the ground. Roland sprinted to the wounded football player, helping him stand.

  “Run,” Brannon breathed, the wind knocked out of him. “We’re under att
ack.”

  Chapter 22

  The windows exploded, sending jagged showers of shattered glass across the room.

  Fox and his friends had arrived.

  “To the exits, before they cut us off!” Aron shouted, bolting for the door Brannon hadn’t come through.

  “Too late!” Rocky said, pointing at the tarry shadows that drizzled across windows like black syrup.

  Roland dragged Brannon to them.

  “We could go to the tunnels,” Raven suggested, turning on her heels to face the kitchen. Tinker Bell hung onto a lock of Raven’s hair to stay anchored to her.

  Director Eastgate opened the kitchen door and slammed it shut behind him. Leaning against it he hissed, “Up, up! Get up to the fiction section!”

  Daire lead the way, Roland, Royce and Rocky were right behind him, practically carrying Brandon with them.

  “Rachel!” Raven’s father shouted as the twins hustled up the stairs. He grabbed her hand. “Don’t leave my side,” he ordered in a quiet, iron voice.

  “What part of GO UP don’t you understand?” the director sourly asked, the door buckling behind him.

  “Come on,” Raven said, leading her father up the stairs.

  “Cupcake! Glad you could make it!” Alison greeted with a full smile when Raven reached the top, her father still hefting the mercifully silent cauldron.

  “Alison, is Mrs. Conners here?” Raven asked, tucking her hair behind her ears.

  “Yep, and that blondie second. What’s-his-face, Jeremiah. All we need is, ahhh there he is,” Alison said when Director Eastgate hustled up the last few stairs.

  “Seal it,” he told Alison in a business like voice, brushing grime off his shirt.

  “Gotcha,” Alison cheerfully said before extending her hands over the staircase. Green liquid dribbled from her hands, hissing when it fell on the stairs.